


Wicked Games

by benperor



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Badass Ben, Badass Rey, CIA, Cold War, Espionage, Europe, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, KGB, Liberal use of Italics, MI6, Spies & Secret Agents, rey and ben are both maximum edgelords, rey is really sassy, tags will update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 11:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benperor/pseuds/benperor
Summary: Lorraine Broughton, or Rey, is MI6's top operative. She goes to Berlin with an ally, Agent Ben Solo with the CIA, to reclaim lost information vital to the allied side of the Cold War. The story picks up the day Rey arrives back in London after her time in Berlin.This story is based loosely off of the movieAtomic Blonde, which is based off of the bookThe Coldest Cityby Anthony Johnston. I really loved the premise of the movie, and I loved all of the kickass visuals and soundtrack of the film, so I wanted to utilize it in this fic.A huge thank you to my beta and limb, chole (a.k.a Chloe, orjewishbensoloon tumblr and@spookyreyloon twitter for gassing me up and letting me annoy her half to death with my ideas. also check out the gorgeous moodboard she made on twitter! ((ily limb.))I also wanna thank my thottie posse for gassing me up and giving me advice, I love you all <3.Come find me on tumblr atbenperor, and on twitter@binaryjedii!





	Wicked Games

**Author's Note:**

> **Die Furcht** \- _fear, dread_
> 
> **WARNING:** In the opening scene, Rey takes a few different kinds of pain meds. She is NOT abusing them, and they are prescribed to her by the MI6 doctors after the hellweek she just had. I just wanted to make that clear :).

 

Cold.

 

It’s all she can feel.

 

Maybe this time it won’t be as painful, cut as deep. But Rey knows that isn’t true.

 

As much as she longs to stay submerged in her ice bath forever, she knows that she has to surface and face herself sooner or later. The loss of a partner, a friend, _a lover--_ the traitorous voice in her head adds-- is the last nail in the coffin of her loneliness.

 

Thinking back to the last night they spent together-- before it all went to hell. Before secrets were revealed, before hearts were broken, Rey remembers how safe she felt in his muscled arms, how his presence felt like a fortress around her heart.

 

_No,_ She scolds herself, _Ben betrayed his country. Ben betrayed me… Ben betrayed_ **_me_ ** _._ Rey’s thoughts were playing the all too familiar game of chase. She couldn’t stop them. She never can.

 

So, here Rey finds herself, trying not to drown ( _Am I? Trying?_ ) in her ice bath. With her thoughts running rampant, she focuses on her feelings to distract the runaway train.

 

_Cold. Tired. Sore. Alone._

 

_Loneliness,_ she thinks with a sigh, watching her breath rise to the surface of the water in a shimmering cloud of bubbles. She hasn’t known anything else, really. Everyone that she decides to love ends up leaving sooner or later. _What a fucking sob story_ , she thinks. _No wonder I don’t have any friends._

 

She surfaces with a chilly inhale and a shiver runs down her spine at the cold air of the marbled bathroom hitting her wet skin. The bathroom is painted with a wash of indigo from the pale light of the morning sky. Her arms prickle with gooseflesh as she leans forward to hug them around her knees, feeling the stiffness of the chilled muscles. _Better than the pain_ , she remembers.

 

A throbbing ache blooms outward from the center of her back as she attempts to climb out of the tub, nearly slipping on the tiled floor as she puts her shaky weight on her legs. Perched on the edge of the tub, she picks up the Stoli bottle from its place on the floor next to the tub. Taking a few ice cubes out of her bath, she drops them with a clink into the highball glass that’s sitting by her feet. She pours a drink in hopes of the alcohol warming her from the inside out. She takes a sip. All it does is burn.

 

Rey gazes at the frosty scene outside of her bathroom window. The world was cold, too, apparently. It was winter in London, the snow falling peacefully across a blue landscape of city streets. She shakes herself out of her daydream, and stands up, forgoing a towel, heading to the vanity. She wants to see the remnants of the past week she’s had, blooming on her skin in shades of plum and navy. A reminder that she is not her own.

 

Reaching with a shaking hand for her pain meds, she opens the bottles-- _one, two, three, four… seems a like a bit of overkill,_ Rey wonders, _\--_ but she takes the pills anyways, swallowing them dry. She tapes up her split knuckles with some leftover surgical tape from the vanity drawer. She looks to put the tape back in its home and glimpses the edge of a photo, fishing it out of the drawer and picking it up.

 

_Oh. Him._

 

Rey lets out an unsteady breath as she looks at the smiling faces staring back at her. She feels warm tears begin to prickle at the corners of her eyes at the image on the photo paper. Her and Ben, arms around each other, smiles small yet genuine. Seeing them together, smiling and happy and _warm_ … is a punch in the gut. This photo was from the days when they had just begun to work with each other, before they both got roped into this elaborate and deadly web of looking over your shoulder in fear, and sleeping with one eye open. _And damaging each other, apparently._

 

She can’t look at it any longer. Rey takes a lighter from the vanity and flicks it on, holding the small flame to the corner of the polaroid. The fire spreads across the picture, the orange light slowly growing larger, offsetting the blue tinge of the room. As it burns, Rey remembers something Ben told her on a cold night as they were holding each other close to keep warm, talking in hushed voices so as not to be discovered. _Let the past die._ He whispered in her ear, warm breath comforting her despite the cold words coming from his plush lips. _Kill it, if you have to._

 

So she does. Rey watches the photo burn to ash in the marble sink in front of her. No more tears, no more letting people in. She’s only ever needed herself, and that’s how it’s going to stay.

 

Flipping the lighted mirror on, Rey pulls her eyes from the charred remnants in the sink up to the mirror. She isn’t shocked by what she sees; dark bruises form under her right eye and wrap around her delicate cheekbone, and the split on her bottom lip shines red and angry, with bruising to match her eye trailing across her chin and around her jaw. She twists around with a jolt of pain from her back and examines the rest of her pale skin, taking in its mottled and raw appearance. More cuts and welts reveal themselves, and patches of deep blue and purple span her shoulders and spine. “Fuck…” she sighs in an exasperated tone, turning back to the mirror with an emotionless huff, picking up her concealer.

 

***

 

Rey fastens her trenchcoat and slips her heeled boots on. She moves over to the bed and swipes her MI6-issued Browning Hi-Power off of the balled-up comforter and slips it securely into her bag. Grabbing her purse and scarf, she moves to the mirror by her front door and slips her sunglasses on in an attempt to conceal the dark bruising under her eye. _I should really buy some new concealer,_ she thinks. _This fucking black eye is gonna be here for a bloody long time._

 

With that thought, she lets out a huff through pouted lips and wraps her scarf around her neck. She grabs her keys off of the cluttered side table by the front door, and heads out for MI6 headquarters.

 

She walks, hands in her pockets, at a brisk pace down the cold cobblestone sidewalk, the sound of her heeled boots clacking in her ears. She feels the unease begin to creep into her consciousness as the realization hits that she’s going to have to bury all of the hurt and loneliness back down into the depths of her mind.

 

_Compartmentalization._ It’s what she was trained to do during her early days with MI6. They said that it makes everything easier, to suppress her emotions. It doesn’t.

 

Rey isn’t looking forward to this interrog-- _debriefing--_ she scolds herself. She’s been dreading it since she touched down on British soil a week ago. All that the debriefing is going to accomplish is making her relive what was possibly the worst week of her life. From her past experiences, it’s going to be her seated across from two higher-ups-- with her luck it’ll probably be the Chief and her director _\--_ in tailored suits, grilling her as to why the mission didn’t go perfectly.

 

Her breathing begins to speed up, remembering all of the absolute _shit_ that she just went through, and how it’s going to take everything out of her not to call the Chief of Intelligence a cocksucker for his lack of understanding.

 

The sound of a taxi whizzing past her down the street shakes her from her thoughts. Pulling her eyes up from the spot that they were permanently glued to on the ground a few feet in front of her, she looks around and allows herself a moment to observe.

 

Everyone around her seemed to be in their own little worlds. Closed off from each other, just living their boring fucking lives with all of their petty problems. _So oblivious,_ Rey thinks to herself with a slight shake of her head. Not a worry in the world past what they’re going to have for dinner or what lipstick to pair with their blouse. _I fucking wish._

 

She puts her head back down and walks on. One foot in front of the other, leading her back into the nightmare.

 

***

 

Rey arrives at 100 Westminster Bridge Road, staring up at the dreadful building that MI6 calls home. The SIS’s “classified” location in the Century House building was Rey’s least favorite place in the city. The building loomed at her from 22 stories above, as if daring her to walk in the marble lobby and face her fears.

She steadied herself for a moment, and ascended the stone steps with a false sense of security. Making her way into the spacious lobby, she heads straight for the metal detector checkpoint and nods at the guard while he steps out of her way and opens the gate for her manually. Rey’s status as a supervising agent gives her special security clearance, allowing her to bypass normal rules (and garner a few quizzical, unwanted looks as she does so).

 

Waltzing past the guard with a stoic look on her face, Rey climbs the grand staircase with leaden steps.

 

***

 

She arrives in the debriefing room shortly.

 

It’s a small room. Fit for an interrogation, she supposes. It’s poorly lit by a single can light in the ceiling, and a metal table sits in the center with three chairs accommodating it. The walls are a dark gray, with the exception of the one-way glass that’s on her right side. She’s being videotaped, she’s sure.

 

Rey quickly scans over the occupants of two of the chairs, both looking at her with steely eyes and pursed lips. The men who are present confirm her fears for how grueling this experience is going to be.

 

Rey takes her seat in the lone chair across from the Chief of Intelligence-- C, he goes by-- and Director Gray. C is a tall but slight man, but what he lacks in stature he makes up for in character. _He’s the biggest fucking hardass in all of London_ . Rey hear’s Ben’s playful quip in her head. _Maybe even all of the UK._ She feels her gut twist at the sound of his deep voice ringing so clear in her head; a small grimace creeps onto her face.

 

Director Gray, a mouse of a man, is the first to speak.

 

“Lorraine,” he starts.

 

Rey knows that she shouldn’t be short with her superiors. However, she’s come to the revelation after recent events that she just doesn’t give a fuck.

 

“What are you, my fucking mother?” Rey interrupts as she crosses her nylon-clad legs under the table.

 

“Fine,” he says with a roll of the eyes and an exasperated huff, “Rey. Tell me what happened.”

 

“Where do you want me to start?”

 

“The beginning. Everything you remember.”  


“Huh.” Rey lets out an empty laugh as she rolls her eyes, arms crossed. She drums her fingers against her side as she sets her eyes on C. “The beginning.”

 

C cocks an eyebrow. “Will that be a problem?”

 

“Not at all, Chief.” Rey laces her words with a subtle venom. She takes a pause and inhales deeply, closing her eyes. Opening them once again, she challenges C with her gaze.

 

“You sent me into a fucking hornet’s nest.”

 

***

 

Dark.

 

It’s very dark. _Why is it so dark?_

 

Ben feels cold. He’s… moving? He feels like he’s moving.

 

His eyes are closed. _That’s why it’s dark._

 

Sounds, warped and low, enter his ears. _Ringing._ His ears are ringing.

 

Ben tries to crack an eye open. He doesn’t know where he is or what happened or why he’s moving. His eyelids are just so _heavy_. He finally manages to open his eyes, a sliver of blinding white light registering in his brain, forcing Ben to slam his eyes shut. He tries to sit up with a grunt, but a searing hot pain burning at him from his shoulder forces him back down with a weak yelp.

 

He hears a squeaking sound. He’s on a gurney. That’s why he’s moving. Where is he? _Where am I?_

 

Ben can’t feel his legs. His arms feel like lead and he doesn’t know if his fingers are moving as he tries to wiggle them. His ears… Still ringing. _It’s so loud... Make it stop… Please. Make it stop… Make it stop make it stop makeitstop MAKE IT STOP._

 

Ben felt a hot sear in his throat. He must’ve yelled that last part out loud.

 

“Fuck… He’s awake already!” Ben hears a strangely-accented voice scape out. It sounded far away, almost disembodied. “Go get Snoke.”

 

Snoke. _Snoke… No. No, no, no, no please don’t get Snoke. Just let me go._ “Let me go!” Ben rasps out, his throat raw.

 

He’s tired. So tired. His body is telling him to sleep. _Sleep. If you go to sleep the pain will stop. No more ringing. No more burning._ __  
  
“Where is he?” Ben hears the voices again. This one sounds different-- it gives him chills. Snoke.

The first voice speaks again. “Over here, sir.”

“Kylo Ren. I knew you’d fuck it up.” Ben hears Snoke’s voice again. _Sleep._ The sound of it leaves an eerie scar in his consciousness; it feels like metal grinding on bone. _Sleep._

 

“Weak bastard.” It sounds farther away still, but then why does Ben still feel it inside his head? _Sleep._ He wants to sleep, drift off into the night of his unconscious. He’s almost gone. The grinding is the last thing he hears before he drifts off into nothing.

 

“I look forward to seeing you again soon, Ren.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfic, and I decided that I'd jump off the deep end and make it a multichap. Warning you now: updates will be sporadic! I'm a student and not the best at writing (which you will probably be able to tell) so I can't promise weekly updates, but I'll try my best.
> 
> Here, have some links!
> 
> What kind of [glass](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Highball_glass) is liquor usually served in?
> 
> What is [Stoli](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stolichnaya)?
> 
> How [cold](https://www.holiday-weather.com/london/averages/december/) does London get in the winter? (Yes, I may have gotten a bit distracted while researching.)
> 
> What [guns](http://www.imfdb.org/wiki/Atomic_Blonde) did Lorraine Broughton use in the movie Atomic Blonde?
> 
> What is [debriefing](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Debriefing)?
> 
> What was [MI6](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Century_House,_London) HQ called in the 90's? Where was it located?
> 
> What are the different [ranks](http://mi6habboon.weebly.com/ranks-list.html) in the chain of command at MI6?
> 
> What does it [feel](https://thoughtcatalog.com/holly-riordan/2017/02/26-gunshot-survivors-explain-exactly-what-the-bullet-felt-like/) like to be shot?


End file.
